Fly trudged along, prattling merrily, for about a minute: then she drew away. "'Tisn't a nice place; I don't want to go there."
A look of pain crossed the blind girl's face.
"No, I dare say you don't. It isn't much of a place for folks with silk bonnets on."
"You can't see my bonnet; you can't see anything, you're blind-eyed; but," said Fly, glancing sharply around, "it isn't pretty here, at all; and there's a dead cat right in the street."
"Yes, I think likely."
"And there's a boy. I spect he frowed the cat out the window; he hasn't nuffin on but dirty cloe's."
"Do you see some steps?" said the blind girl, putting her hand out cautiously. "Don't fall down."
"I shan't fall down; I'm going home."
"O, don't child; you must come with me. My mother will take care of you."
"I don't want nobody's mother to take 'are o' me; I've got a mamma myself!"